


A Helping Hand

by fuzzy_paint



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, PWP, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzy_paint/pseuds/fuzzy_paint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane can't sleep. Thor has a solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helping Hand

Thor’s already asleep, stretched out in their enormous bed, blankets and sheet strewn haphazardly over him. There’s enough light from the window that Jane doesn’t bother to turn the lights on, just toes off her socks, sheds her sweater and bra, and pushes down her jeans. She leaves it all there on the floor, too tired to maintain any semblance of order, not interested in even bothering with another shirt. 

She settles into the coolness of their sheets, rests her head against a pillow, and closes her eyes. 

Jane rolls on her back, frowning.

Numbers blur across her eyelids, her thoughts tumbling after. There is no error in the equations, the same ones she’s been working on for days, the same ones giving her such impossible results. There can’t be an error, because if there was, it should be glaringly obvious. Easy to spot, if it’s causing such erroneous outcomes. If not by her, then Tony, or Bruce. She forwarded it on this morning – yesterday? Jane checks the clock. Yesterday. They’d video-conferenced earlier, frustration leaking through, and even with their combined genius, Jane’s no closer to answers. 

She rearranges her pillow, fluffing it even though it doesn’t need it. Then, after a moment’s thought, she steals the pillow Thor’s not using, settling it under her too. He doesn’t notice. His head is tilted back and his mouth open in the way of those who are blissfully, blissfully asleep. 

Too much coffee, too long since the sandwich Thor set on her table, one she barely remembers tasting, too long buried in her work without a break. It won’t leave her now, despite the burn in her eyes from staring too long at computer screens and the tiny type of the various research papers she left scattered in her lab. 

Jane stares into the darkness for what feels like hours, though it’s probably only minutes, telling herself to sleep but working through possible plans for reaching a solution, each one more unlikely and outlandish than that last. She sighs into the pillow, and then turns on her side, little good it does. She works her shoulder into the bed, unforgiving when it’s usually so comfortable, shifting to alleviate the ache in her body. 

She curls her hand into a fist and presses it against her eye, sighs. Shifts her legs and then her hips, thinks about getting up and doing something crazy, like jumping jacks or going for a walk, even at this time of night, or yoga- 

Thor’s hand rests on her hip, then, large and warm, grounding her to the bed. He presses his face against her hair. Breathes in. A reflex, judging by the languid kiss at her shoulder, the press of his mouth lingering as if he’s not even awake yet, and Jane tries to match his breathing, to close her eyes and follow him into sleep. 

It should work. Thor is comforting, warm; he’s always warm. Jane attempts to focus on that, but there she goes. Do Asgardian core temperatures always run higher – and why? Thor talks about the snow in the mountains and the cooler temperatures in the Asgardian winter, and, in either case, people who live in Northern climates don’t have a higher body temp than those who live along the Equator. Alien, she thinks, and knows she can’t compare him to humans like that; different realms, different rules, but it might account for his higher metabolism, the way he can eat so much and still be hungry-

“Jane.” Thor kisses her shoulder again. He stays there, breathing, for a moment, and then slides up to her neck, kisses her there, and then again on her jaw. “You are in distress.”

“Tired. Can’t stop thinking,” she mumbles, pressing her face against the pillow. 

“Hmm,” he says, not sounding surprised at all. But then, it’s not the first time Jane’s come to bed and been unable to sleep. She’s starting to calculate how often it actually happens when his hand drifts across her stomach, fingers splayed. Big hands, rough calluses from his hammer and from battle, but Thor so gentle that it tickles instead of hurts. She squirms a bit, and turns into his arms to rest on her back. Jane touches his chest, over his heart. She look up at him, the light too poor to see the warmth in his eyes, the details of his face. Doesn’t matter. Sometimes she thinks she knows his face better than her own. 

She grips his shoulder when his hand slides lower, pressed flat against her belly. Jane tilts her head back to kiss him, opens her mouth when he slips his hand inside her underwear, stroking and stroking and stroking, one-two, one-two, one-two. A slow, steady beat that gets heat curling in her belly, that will soon have her breath catching, that already has her lifting her hips in anticipation. 

But no rush, she thinks dazedly, spreading her legs wider. Jane runs her hands over his chest, thumbing his nipples, smoothing down his sides, tracing over the jut of his hipbones, and- 

He kisses her, uses his weight and his size to push her back against the bed, holding her there with the bulk of his body so that she can’t reach him, not without some crazy contortionism, and one-two, one-two, one-two. 

“ _Thor_ -” 

“Jane,” he agrees, his thumb still maddening across her clit, that damn one-two, one-two and now three, a finger inside her. She presses her face against his shoulder, tastes the hint of sweat on his skin. She swallows, finding it hard to do with the way she’s starting to pant now, the way her stomach muscles clench. She says his name when it starts to be altogether too much. 

She brings her knee up to curl around him, her calf sliding across his back, feeling the smooth skin and the few raised scars, and then down, down to press behind his knee. She tugs, trying to pull him forward, to bring him to her, knowing her chances and doing it anyway. Thor’s a rock.

But he relents, taking his fingers out of her to pull her underwear down and off. He runs his hand up the entire way back, pausing to rub his thumb in the crease of her leg. He leans forward to kiss between her breasts, still rubbing, close but nowhere near where she wants it. Thor settles between her legs, and then there’s the burn of him pushing inside her, and it’s that same one-two-three again, Thor above her, bracing his arm, elbow to wrist, alongside her head. He has her hip in his hand, guiding her to match the pace he sets. 

“Jane,” he says, thick with that hint of wonder that always makes her feel like she’s about to break open, that she’s still learning how to handle. 

She could do it, she knows, interrupt this relentlessly slow rhythm and urge them both into something faster, sharper. It’d only take a simple one-two of her own, twisting her hips like so. Jane knows the sound he’d make if she did, the way he’d shudder. She’d do it, just for that, but it’s too good to go faster, too wonderful to rush along. She could stay like this for always, him and her, and maybe the stars above them, and she thinks of that night in Puente Antiguo. Of when this had only been a possibility, a spark inside her whenever she looked at him, all maybe, maybe.

Jane turns her face into the arm he’s using to hold himself up, and she kisses his wrist, tasting salt on her tongue. His hand turns and fingers tangle in her hair, thumb rubbing circles over her cheek. 

Thor puts his mouth on her neck, murmuring in the All-tongue. Jane runs her hands up along his side and around to his back, feels the play of his muscles working, the tickle of his beard as he licks across her collarbone. She pulls him closer despite the unbearable heat, the flush over her entire body, the sweat on both of them.

When Jane comes, she does twist her hips like so, mostly accidental, and breaks Thor’s rhythm, so unexpected that the catch in his throat is louder than usual, and his full-body shudder drives him deeper inside her. 

It takes a moment, both of them grinning, that familiar softness in how he strokes her jaw before he bends to kiss her. It’s just a lazy slide of their tongues, so slow she aches, so slow that by the time her body should be slipping into something loose-limbed and languid, she’s half thinking she might just roll him over and start again, and. It’s not the equation, she realizes, and what if she-

“Jane,” he says, laughing. He probably has some idea, knowing there’s a good chance she’s about to roll out of bed and go back to her lab, even if she should sleep. She does need sleep, and Thor is so warm. 

Jane hesitates, weighs her options – is she going to forget this in the morning? No, absolutely not – and, satisfied with the answer, turns into him, curling into his warmth. He puts his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, rubbing soothing circles until the din quiets, until everything finally catches up, evens out, and she sleeps.


End file.
